


First Foot

by WoolyLambda



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Secret Santa Summer Hell 2016, cecilos - Freeform, sssh 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoolyLambda/pseuds/WoolyLambda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for luthientheasexualdragon as their secret santa summer hell gift. Fic takes place in January of 2014, presumably before Cecil goes off to work to report on John Peters' orange crop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Foot

“Cecil!” Carlos called as he entered the apartment, tripping over the threshold to the front door with a great thump of mass against hardwood. He’d gone out to buy some groceries before his partner had woken up — so that he could surprise Cecil with a special New Years breakfast — but with the eggs in such a completely smashed state from his fall, it seemed as though he was going to need to go out again. He groaned in discomfort as he turned to look at what had caught him, pushing away from the floor with one arm, and dusting off his jacket with the other.

One of his feet was… _missing_.

“ _Cecil!_ ” He called again, this time with a thread of panicked urgency running through his voice.

“Coming, honey bunches of oats,” came the groggy response from the bedroom. Cecil entered the foyer in one of his favourite nightdresses; a long cyan number, with a ribbon of lace shaped like little moons sewn to the hem personally by the man wearing it. His steps were muffled by the mass of his slippers, and he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of one hand.

“Cecil, what is going on? Is this some sort of trick?” Carlos asked, gesticulating to the empty spot where his foot should have been sitting. Cecil’s eyes went wide as his gaze fell upon the hole in space.

“Oh, dear,” the other man murmured, moving to inspect the stump as Carlos sat up further. “It looks like you’re my First Foot this year. Usually I just sweep a bug over the threshold, or something, and then throw away the foot when it shows up behind my dresser. This might be a little bit more complicated, though. I’ve never had to reattach one before.”

“Your ‘First Foot’? Cecil, I don’t understand.” Carlos looked to his ankle, then to the pair of grocery bags, and sighed deeply in disappointment. “This was supposed to be a nice morning, and now I’ve ruined it with weird Night Vale shenanigans. How do we fix this?”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait for the foot to show up. It usually only takes an hour, give or take a few minutes.” The man’s eyes lit up as Cecil spoke.

“Really? So then we can just wait here, and it’ll be fine?” Cecil laughed, hoisting Carlos up onto his foot with a heave.

“Or,” he said, tucking an arm around his boyfriend’s waist, “I can put away the groceries, and we can wait for your foot to come back to us on the couch. You know, that place with the cushions, and the not-floor.”

“That sounds absolutely wonderful, Cece.”

And so they waited, flipping to the Food Network to watch some mindless television, and the Home Improvement channel when the Food Network eventually mentioned something to do with wheat and wheat by-products, and was censored by the Sheriff’s Secret Police. Similar things had happened often enough that Carlos must have suggested cancelling their subscription fifty times by now, but Cecil always refused; stating that Cutthroat Kitchen made him feel alive inside, and that they couldn’t cancel an entire network for the sins of a few shows. And Carlos always gave into his whims, leaving the Food Network on their bill, and switching channels whenever someone mentioned flour. Which, surprisingly, was not as often as you might think, but often enough that it was bothersome.

Carlos had almost forgotten about his phantom foot; at least until a loud thunk came from the bedroom, and Cecil raced off to investigate.

“Huzzah!” He yelled, moving as quickly as his be-slippered feet would carry him. He arrived with the foot in hand — shoe and sock still in-tact — and pressed the smooth plateau of it just below where Carlos’s ankle started. The foot reattached seamlessly, with a soft popping noise.

“Neat,” Carlos whispered, pulling his leg up to inspect the thing. It didn’t look any different than it had the hour before; still dark and freckled, with a scar across the top from the shard of a dropped plate. But it did feel a bit different. Sort of… tingly? He wasn’t sure if there was a word to describe such a sensation.

“I wasn’t even sure if that would work, to be honest with you,” Cecil said. He chuckled to himself a bit, gazing rapturously at the other man’s foot.

“Well, thank you,” Carlos stood up to test his weight before leaning up to plant a peck onto Cecil’s cheek. “I wonder who my First Foot is going to be.”

“You’re an out-of-town-er, so I don’t think you have one. We’ll see, I guess.” He said, shrugging his unsure feeling.

“Hey, guys I thought I would just drop in to see how you’re faring on this fine New Year’s D— oh!”

Cecil froze in disgust at the voice.

“ _Steve Carlsburg!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second fandom gift exchange I've participated in, and it was really fun! I hope I can do more in the future tbh.


End file.
